


"You're Music Taste is $%*#"

by KittyinShadows



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Kyou has social anxiety, M/M, Rated T for swears, can be read as non ship but romance hinted, developing friendships uwu, kyou is my son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 12:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13903869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyinShadows/pseuds/KittyinShadows
Summary: When Kyoutani forgets his phone-and more importantly his music-at home one day, he is anticipating a day of anxiety and stress. But to his surprise, Yahaba offers his phone for the day. Anything for a teammate right...or a friend.





	"You're Music Taste is $%*#"

**Author's Note:**

> old-ass fic from forever ago, but this ship gets so little love, enjoy u desperate fuckers <3

Kyoutani was halfway to school when he realized what was missing.

He had forgotten his phone.

Fuck.

Not that he ever called or texted or whatever else people did on phones (he really wasn’t sure). But, well, it held all his music. School, with its people and its pressure and its pinching clothes and its haughty teachers, was a stressful affair, but the principal had told him directly that if he missed any more days without a sick pass, he wouldn’t be allowed to participate in club activities.

So he had to load his phone up with an excessive amount of his favorite music, found himself a pair of higher quality, more innocuous earbuds, and dragged his ass to school every single morning. Which, he had morning practice and morning didn’t bother him much anyways but, well, it was the principal of it. The thing was though, he wasn’t especially good at the whole “schedule” thing, and so, today, as many days, he was running late. Late to _practice_ not school, which was much worse to him. He considered running back to grab his phone, but he would be even later than he already was, and he could already see the depreciating scowl on Yahaba’s face. Ugh, why did that guy get to him so much? It’s not like he cared what he thought, what anyone thought. Except maybe Iwaizumi-san, but Iwaizumi-san deserved his respect! Not Yahaba.

Even if he was just looking out for the team.

And maybe looking out for Kyoutani.

No. Yahaba has been nothing but aggressive towards Kyoutani. Although Kyoutani admittedly isn’t much better. _Whatever._ He wouldn’t go back for his phone, he didn’t need the hassle.

He had hoped to get to the locker rooms unnoticed, but he wasn’t so lucky. Yahaba was practicing setting to Kunimi, and was facing the door, so when Kyoutani entered he was immediately noticed.

“You’re late,” Yahaba said lightly, with a slight sigh but not so much as a frown. “Get changed and we’ll do some spiking practice.” It was almost worse that Yahaba didn’t bat an eye, didn’t scowl or scold, just _sighed_ of all things, like he was disappointed but had accepted it, like Kyoutani being late wasn’t worth his time as captain.

It was definitely irritating.

Practice without the third-years was completely different. They still had enough people for practice matches, after all Aoba Johsai was quite renowned, but the rest of the players weren’t really on the same level as those who had played on the team.  And Oikawa, well, Oikawa was the center of their team. They were still good without him, could still work together without him, but it was just…different.

He was quickly coming to regret all those skipped practices. Yahaba was a good setter, and they worked…okay together…usually, but he had nowhere near the skill and intuition that Oikawa had. Kyoutani had missed a great opportunity to grow as a player, he was realizing.

The day was just beginning and he was already on edge. He was worried about how class would be, without his music to calm him down and drown out the chatter of his classmates. Yahaba, frustratingly enough, seemed to realize this. On their way out of practice he asked, “Are you okay? You seemed different than usual. Angrier but less focused.”

Kyoutani considered lying or brushing it off, but this was his captain...and ace and captain needed to understand each other. “I forgot my phone at home,” he said gruffly. “It has all my music on it.”

“Oh,” Yahaba sounded surprised, a little. They walked in silence for a moment. “Would you like to borrow mine then?”

“Seriously?” Kyoutani glanced over at Yahaba, who was pulling a phone and earbuds out of his bag.

“Yeah, you need them more than me. And I need you in good condition for afternoon practice.” He opened up his music app and handed it to Kyoutani. “I’m sure you can find something.” He stared at the phone in his hand in shock as Yahaba left him for his own class. Why had he done that? It’s not like they were friends. It wasn’t like Kyoutani had asked for help. Was this some sort of debt thing? Was Yahaba trying to get him to behave in practice?

But well…even if those were the case…he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

As he walked to class he studied the phone, trusting that his scowl and reputation would clear the way for him. The wallpaper was endearingly typical; a picture of Yahaba and Watari and a few other guys Kyoutani vaguely recognizes from their grade, someplace outside, looking a little younger and all squished together to fit in the frame. That sort of friendship…Kyoutani’s never had it. He almost envied those boys...but no. Yahaba was an asshole; he wouldn’t want to be friends with him. Yeah. His apps were all sorted into neat groups, titled things like “Calendar” “Music” “Games”. It was fitting, he thought. And since this was Yahaba, there was bound to be some good music on here. He could easily imagine Yahaba studiously doing his homework to Mozart or Tchaikovsky. Maybe the day wouldn’t be too bad after all.

 

 

Kyoutani was wrong. Very much wrong. Yahaba had no classical, nor any sort of instrumentals, ambient  music, not even a single slower pop song. Yahaba’s taste in music seemed to lay solely in hip hop, hard rock, dubstep, electronic, and others of the sort. Even the playlist entitled “Sleep” was filled with disgusting J-rock crap. What did Kyoutani do to deserve this? What? He was a good person, he fed his cat (he didn’t have a cat), he went to school (well), he did his taxes (he didn’t have taxes). Really, he didn’t deserve this sort of suffering.

Oh well. He would just tough it out, like he’d expected that morning, and never forget his phone ever again.

He was never late to afternoon practice, after all that was what got him to school for the most part. So he was already halfway changed when Yahaba entered the locker room.

“Oh, Kyoutani,” he said in greeting. “Did you find anything good? I thought maybe you would like some of the classic rock.”

Kyoutani finished what he was doing and handed the phone and earbuds to Yahaba. _I should thank him_ , he thought, _that’s the polite thing to do. And I’m trying to get along with him_. Yet what came out of his mouth was, “You’re music taste is shit.”

Yahaba took on the passively hostile expression he so often wore around Kyoutani.  “Oh? And what’s _‘_ good’ music, hm?”

_Don’t, he’ll make fun of you_ , he thought, right before he began to list off composers.

Yahaba’s pretty mouth morphed into a little ‘o’ of surprise, his brow furrowing slightly. “You listen to classical music,” he sounded almost genuinely interested, but of course Kyoutani couldn’t possibly take an out that easily.

“And you listen to _Skrillex_?” he countered.

“Hey!” Yahaba bristled, crossing his arms, crumpling his uniform sleeve between slender fingers. “That’s _one_ song! And it keeps me awake!”

“And classical keeps me calm,” Kyoutani replied, copying his pose.

“Oh.” They’d come to a standstill. After a tense moment of silence Yahaba turns back to his locker. “Well, sorry, I guess, for having such a shitty music taste.”

Now why did that bother Kyoutani? He didn’t know, exactly, couldn’t pinpoint what it was about Yahaba’s tone which made him feel bad (or didn’t want to). But whatever it was, he knew that he was the cause of it, and well, Yahaba was his captain and his setter now and…he should at least put in a little effort. He sighed, loudly enough to catch the other boy’s attention.  He stared pointedly at the ground, ears heating, “No. I—thanks. For trying. You didn’t have to do that.”

Yahaba looks stupidly cute, his soft brown eyes slightly widened, his brows creeping up. (Were he more perceptive he would have noticed the slight blush on his cheeks)What, it wasn’t like Kyoutani had never apologized before (he hadn’t even apologized _now_ , but that was beside the point, really).

“It’s no problem.” He smiled, soft, friendly, stupid.  “Anything for a—“ teammate—“friend.”

_Friend_? Yahaba considered him a friend? Even though…even though they were constantly arguing, constantly baiting each other? Even though Kyoutani wasn’t the friend type?

_Oh_. Not…not that he cared. He couldn’t care less what Yahaba thought of him, the deceiving ass. He thought Kyoutani was his friend, apparently.

_Oh._ Maybe, maybe just maybe, he liked being someone’s friend. He hadn't really had many, and he didn’t even know if this was what it was supposed to be, but it felt nice all the same.

_Friend._

He could get used to that word.

 

 


End file.
